


Tuesday

by justsimplymeagain



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gen, Impllied murders, Jim has a very bad day, M/M, Murder, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsimplymeagain/pseuds/justsimplymeagain
Summary: Everyone has them, bad days when nothing goes right and everything falls apart. They were often a part of life. But sometimes a bad day can be what finally does it. Finally breaks something you thought unbreakable. And for Jim, that day was today.





	Tuesday

It started with a prisoner escape – Eduardo Flamingo. A cannibalistic killer for hire who Jim had encountered before. The cannibalistic killer was hired to kill him. But he failed, and according to guards and other inmates – he had an obsession with Jim because of that failure. Apparently, he wasn't accustomed to failure, in his own mind anyway.

Harvey wanted to have Jim under protection until they re-captured him. But Jim disagreed. He will help catch Flamingo, and once again put him behind bars.

It wasn't personal. It wasn't even about pride or even ego like he was accused of. This was just him trying to do his job as the acting captain of GCPD. And the threat of a cannibalistic killer wasn't going to stop him from doing his job.

That had been a month ago.

In a month, things had changed drastically. Cops were targeted, killed and mutilated. Messages left to him in their blood. What finally caused him to lose his temper and trash his office at GCPD was when his parents grave sites were desecrated. Dug up, robbed and painted a bright pink. A note left made it clear who was behind it, if the pink wasn't already a dead giveaway:

{I just had to see where the great James Gordon came from. Made sure to spend some time with your parents as well. To get to know them better. Hope to see you soon, it'll be fun getting to know you as well.}

Nobody bothered Jim while he was trashing his office but Harvey, despite any disagreements or hard feelings that came between them. They still somehow managed to remain friends – Harvey was the best friend Jim has ever had. And sometimes he was one of the limited people that Jim could honestly rely on.

Harvey tried to get him to calm down, only after a good ten minute talk down and a promise that they'll get this guy did Jim back down from his loss of control. A loss of control he hated. Ever since the Tetch Virus mess, something seemed to have stuck with him. Perhaps because he willingly took it? Jim didn't know, and fear of knowing the answer kept him silent.

It was bad enough remembering what he did under its effect, he didn't need to be put under examination and made to feel like something – inferior. Or something to be studied. They already had that with the former Captain.

With that under wraps, and this case. Jim had a bad feeling that things weren't going to end well for him. But he buried that as well. He had to.

Kept up the manhunt for Flamingo, kept trying to explain to the public why they were losing more and more manpower as time seemed to drag on. Confidence in him was dropping, both with the public and within the GCPD. Something else he tried to keep buried as he pushed forward.

Stress would eventually get to him one evening and he needed a release. Somewhere to go where he could just stop if only for a moment. And there really was only one place he could think of at that moment:

The Iceberg Lounge.

Where he was met by Oswald who offered a drink without asking, knowing Jim enough to know he would need one. It should be concerning on how well a criminal knew him and if it was any other criminal he would be, but this was Oswald and the man was always set apart from all the other criminals.

The connection they had was far more complicated than most would credit it with being. They were enemies, they were allies, they were friends and in quiet personal moments, they were more. Jim was well aware that the relationship he had with Oswald wasn't technically appropriate within their respective roles within societies standards. But this was Gotham and nothing seemed to fit within the carefully constructed lines most wanted to imagine there is.

Tonight there was a lack of banter and insults thrown within unspoken guidelines. Possibly because Jim needed it or perhaps because Oswald had a greater understanding of the situation than he let on. And since the beginning of this entire manhunt, this will be his calmest moment. Sharing a drink with the King of Gotham.

He was warned before leaving the Lounge to be careful, to not let his anger get the best of him. After all, who better to warn about the loss of control over oneself then Oswald Cobblepot?

In the end, Jim will wish that he had listened to Oswald's warning. Because if he did, perhaps he wouldn't have lost that control at the worst time. Perhaps he wouldn't have given into something he didn't like to admit to existing in the first place. And unavoidably lose something of himself.

It would turn out that Flamingo was hiding out in an abandoned construction site for just another abandoned project in Gotham, started under promises of past mayors who come and fall just as quickly as everyone else in Gotham.

When Jim finally caught up, he did so without back up and this would be the first of many mistakes. But anger had a way of blinding him to reason. But picturing what happened with those cops, with his parents grave site had Jim pushing forward. Looking back, Jim knew he should have called for back up. That he should have waited until Harvey or someone was there to watch his back.

But he didn't.

Because Jim just wanted this whole mess to end. And that was what had him pushing forward. Grimacing at the signs of torture areas, knowing now that this was the place Flamingo took his victims back before setting them up for Jim to find. The smell alone nearly had him gagging. It only enforced the need to get this guy off of the streets as soon as possible.

Holding onto his gun with his finger twitching as it neared the trigger, Jim made sure to look the area over before entering. Take it slow and try to cover his blind spots whenever possible in order to protect himself. An action that would prove pointless as he found out too late that he didn't do a good enough job. Chains swung down connected hard with his arms and successfully causing Jim to lose his grip on his gun and dropping it.

Nobody could warn you beforehand how much chains actually hurt when they were used to strike you.

But they do.

And just like that, Jim was unarmed and found himself in a fight.

A fight that was not like the last fight with Flamingo. This time it felt different, this time he had a months worth of anger at the loss of cops and the desecration of his parent's graves held inside of him. His body felt hot with that rage. And it must have shown clearly in his expression and with how he threw his punches. There was no restraint to be found and to make matters worse, Jim had a sick satisfaction when he connected his hits. He was glad to see the man's face bloodied, lip split and the clear sign of bruises forming.

What was wrong with him?!

It was a valid question, but one Jim couldn't humour at the moment as he was knocked back with a hit to the side of his head with something hard and had to deal with the ringing in his ears. With little time to recover Jim found himself knocked down and staring up at a very pleased Eduardo Flamingo.

“Feels good, that blood rush. Doesn't it? But this is just an amateur method of gaining that rush, let me tell you. I can come up with so many skilled ways of achieving that rush.” Flamingo boasted, loud and cocky. Proud of himself and Jim just glared. At this moment, the advantage belonged to Flamingo, something Jim needed to change and fast. Rolling to his feet was hard, he was kicked when he tried. By the third kick, Jim managed to take hold of Flamingo's leg and used that to push the man back.

Giving himself a precious second to get to his feet. Once there, Jim did the next best thing – tackled him hard enough to knock him back into the wall of an office trailer. Aiming his hits for the sternum and face, some being blocked and some connecting. Fresh blood now adding to the old.

Something must have set Flamingo off, something telling him that this wasn't a fight to arrest him. Like it was last time.

When this change happened, Jim wasn't entirely sure. But it wasn't enough to stop him from trying to beat the other man down.

Jim found himself pushed back hard enough he almost lost his footing. It took a moment longer to realize that the man as talking. Again. Only this time, the joyful boasting tone was gone, this time it was a mixture of what he would have done to Jim's parents if they were alive and what he wants to do to Jim. Brutal details of torture, of flaying and skinning. Violations of all sort, the man just wouldn't stop talking and promising filth. It was disgusting, the things he was coming up with and regardless of how hard Jim hit him. He kept talking.

Disgusted with what he heard – Jim pushed forward, found himself almost choked by his own anger.

A voice whispered in the back of his mind, telling him to silence this man.

Jim agreed and Jim pushed forward.

This man! This thing! What he wants to do to Jim, what he would have done to his parents. His father. His mother.

It was maddening!

And to make matters worse, there was already a lot of evidence that shows that this man – this thing was capable of carrying out his promises. Look at what he did to cops already! What he did to Jim's parent's grave sites!

And it was all because of Jim.

Because he couldn't pull the trigger back when it could have made a difference. It was his fault. Guilt only seemed to add to the anger that seemed to be fuelling Jim at the moment. What if he had pulled the trigger back then? When he had the gun in Eduardo Flamingo's mouth. Would that have stopped what happened for the past month?

Oswald's warning replayed itself. Calm and steady in his mind. Don't lose control of his anger. Like the man knew that Jim had that risk. But here and now – Jim couldn't focus on that friendly warning as anger drowned it out. Jim kept his attack up, blocking hits made towards him as best that he could and making sure his own hits were as hard as he could make them.

Jim reminded himself that he didn't like fighting, but he wasn't afraid to. Let this fight be an example of that. However, this time – this time only – he'll let himself enjoy it. Just this once.

So Jim did. He won't let himself stoop to the level of crazy as some in Gotham or mindless rage as others. But he let himself go. Fighting harder to get the upper hand and to keep it. Making sure that it was Flamingo who wound up on the ground.

And make sure to keep him there and make him feel it.

Blow for blow.

Jim let himself go as images danced in his mind. Dead Cops. Mutilated cops. Dug up graves. Desecrated graves. Images of what would have happened, what could have happened and what can happen if Jim stopped now.

Jim didn't stop hitting Flamingo, not caring if he blocked or not, not letting him break out from under Jim. Jim didn't even stop when the man stopped moving.

He. Just. Kept. Going.

It wasn't until he felt a hard rod across his chest and sternum as he was being pulled back. Instinct almost drove him to lash out at the person stopping him, and he would have had he not looked over his shoulder and saw -

“Oswald...”

To their left stood Victor Zsasz, an impressed look on his face as he stared down at what used to be Eduardo Flamingo. Broken and bloodied, still under Jim's weight. Ultimately beaten to death. And by Jim.

What has he done!?

“Oh...”

Jim just beat a man to death, and to make things much worse. He enjoyed it. Jim wanted to be sick, his stomach turning savagely, clenching on nothing. Reality mercilessly sunk in further as the threat of security cameras and potential dirty cops showing up given that some most likely work for Oswald. What were his men going to do?

“Oh.”

“Take a breath, first ones always a doozy.” Victor unhelpfully suggested. Jim would have to disagree with that, this wasn't his first. He's taken lives before. He murdered Theo, the first time. He's killed Odgen Baker, Fish Mooney and others. On the job and not. This wasn't his first. But this one – this one did feel different and he couldn't find it in himself to explain how.

Why did it feel different?

Offhandedly he heard Oswald talking – ordering his men to do something. Wordlessly he was told to stand up and watched as two of Oswald's men took the body away. Without Oswald, right behind him as he was, Jim felt colder. They both stared at the spot where the body used to be. Jim now facing reality and Oswald seemingly calm about the whole thing. What a stark difference they made, Jim being a mess both emotionally and physically and Oswald as elegant and untouchable as ever. Untouchable and yet closer somehow?

“There's no going back from this, old friend.” A statement, it wasn't cruel or unwarranted. It was just a statement. Oswald studied him for a moment before smiling as he continued, “I did warn you. Let that not be forgotten.” Oswald did warn him, Jim remembered that clearly and remembered being touched by that warning. But it still took nothing away from the fact that they were here standing where a body once laid – the body of someone Jim murdered. And worse – enjoyed.

It felt like he lost ground and Gotham's shadows seemed to stretch out just a bit further. How much longer before he's fully engulfed in that shadow? Regardless, Jim knows now without a doubt that Gotham needs someone stronger than he was.

“He wasn't innocent Jim.” Another fact, one Jim didn't know if it was meant for comfort or if it was just a fact. But Oswald was right.

For a moment Jim forgot everything, forgot his own kills long enough to let himself fall victim to his own lapse of judgment and perhaps pity. One that would allow him to say, “And now neither am I.” It was stupid, he knows he was wrong the moment he said it because no one knew Jim's history better than himself. And it was Jim who had to face himself in the mirror every morning and try and face those facts every day.

“You never were Jim, good man or not, you're not innocent.” It was a cold cruel truth that Oswald stated, one Jim was aware of. And he knows even more so, he lost any right to try and hold the moral high ground especially with Oswald and himself. “Gotham doesn't allow innocence to last.” This last part felt less like a stab like Oswald's former words did. But it was a heartbreaking thing to hear all the same. Because Gotham seemed to prove that over and over again. Reminding Jim that it needed someone stronger than him.

Standing here, knowing what he has done and hearing what Oswald had to say Jim didn't know if he wanted to laugh, cry or just start screaming. But he was afraid that if he did any one of them – he wouldn't stop.

Jim had set out to clean Gotham up, to be the hero and make a difference. And now look at him? Standing in an abandoned construction site in the presence of killers and a Crimelord.

What now, Jim wanted to ask because he never stood on this side of the fence before. Only caught glimpses and never had to deal with the consequences of it. Almost like he spoke out loud he was informed that the body will be hidden and Jim would have to get rid of his clothing. Burn them, shower somewhere apart from his apartment. And carry on, because life doesn't stop just because of one bad day when control snaps and a body drops. Not in Gotham.

Hours later, when he was showering in a spare bathroom at Oswald's mansion Jim would realize that Oswald now knows where the body is buried and Jim doesn't. He should be more scared of that then he was, and perhaps he'll live to regret it but for now he'll let it be. For now, he'll let the hot water wash away the filth of what he has done.

It would be here that he would mourn his loss of control, cry until his eyes were red and press down on the bruises he's gained to try and use pain to gain control of himself. His emotions running on high and would do so for the rest of the night. It would be morning when he finally finds some form of control with the help of Oswald.

It was Oswald who picked him up and helped him get himself back under control. But it will always be Jim who had to deal with the fallout every day afterwards. It was Jim who had to walk back into the station and feel as though everyone knew. It was Jim who would see blood on his hands and hate the twisted satisfaction he got that day. It would be Jim who had to deal with how much more he now wanted to pull that trigger whenever he had to point his gun at anyone. It will be Jim who will have to deal with the feeling that something in him was now twisted and wrong.

All because he lost some of his control that day. And Jim knew that he will never get it back.

So on the days where his control seemed to be unbelievably low and he had an itch that he couldn't seem to scratch. He took refuge in the Iceberg Lounge or when invited – Oswald's mansion. Oswald would always welcome him warmly. Understandingly and dangerously so. And on his worst days, when he couldn't stand the change he seemed to have invited into himself he would seek Oswald out to help ground him and he would always find it on his knees before the King of Gotham.

 

* * *

 

 

**Come say hi:**  [justsimplymeagain](http://justsimplymeagain.tumblr.com/) 

**The Drabble that inspired this story:**  [Jim Gordon’s one bad day](http://thegreenfairy13.tumblr.com/post/180529306284/i-dont-see-how-all-your-morality-has-brought-you) written by greenfairy13

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this one-shot, it was inspired by a drabble expertly written by thegreenfairy13 on Tumblr.


End file.
